


Axes and knives

by bellofthetolppl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, He tries to hide it, Hurt/Comfort, basically clarke finds bellamy hurt, bellamy is very soft here i am warning yall, but she catches him, but they are also super soft, he's as soft as a marshmellow, so adorable, they fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellofthetolppl/pseuds/bellofthetolppl
Summary: Clarke comes home to find Bellamy trying to patch himself up after a stupid accident. Also Bellamy is really soft in this one and she can’t resist it.





	Axes and knives

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the beautiful [Zahraa](https://zavens.tumblr.com/) who send me the prompt and cheered me on as I wrote!

Clarke decides to head home early today. Medbay is mostly empty by five in the afternoon and her mom and Jackson stay behind to clean up some of the supplies. 

Okay, the truth is, they kick her out, saying she’s been spending too much time here in the past few weeks and she needs the rest, so she reluctantly agrees.

For once, she’s actually in a good mood after work. It’s late spring, just on the verge of summer. The delinquents are happy, participating in all kinds of activities around camp and building their own cabins on the east side, a project Bellamy started thinking about last fall but was only set in motion three weeks ago.

Which explained the lack of free time they both had right now. He was pulling off guard shifts during the day and working on the cabins later in the evening. The delinquents joining him in this crusade meant they often got hurt and he was sending them off to her in medbay whenever someone got as much of a splinter in their finger. 

He cared so much about them.

Of course he never gave himself the same courtesy. She rolls her eyes even now at the thought of finding him passed out from exhaustion last night. 

It’s true, he was cute, dammit, he was cute, as much as she didn’t want to admit it.

There was something so soft and affectionate in the way he always slept on his stomach, his arm hanging from the cot they shared, one of his messy curls that had fallen over his forehead moving when she opened the door and the night breeze came in. 

He snored, just barely, it was adorable and sometimes when he dreamed he’d say something like _“You’re a good boy aren’t you”_ which meant he was dreaming of their dog Ares or _“Take the apple!”_ which probably involved her. 

Sometimes he had nightmares too and he’d cry in his sleep. She had to shake him to wake him up and he’d be so distraught, he’d only calm down when she pulled him to her chest and let him cry himself back to sleep, with her humming a quiet soothing melody and running her fingers through his hair.

Yes, sleeping Bellamy did things to her but it also made her angry when she focused on the details.

She’d realize he never took his clothes or boots off. He came home and simply passed out. 

The dinner plates he got them from the mess hall on the way home were untouched-he hadn’t eaten. It’d take her forever to roll him over and drag at least his jacket off his shoulders. 

He’d be so exhausted, he would never fully wake up and carefully, slowly, she’d drag her hand under his shirt and hear his breath hitch when she found a bruised rib or a bad knot on his shoulder or yet another cut on his lower back from dragging woods to camp. 

Clarke had tried talking to him, telling him he had to take it easy but he wouldn’t listen. 

He’d say something stupid and dramatic like _“Winter’s coming soon and I want them all to have a place of their own”_ and she’d oppose with something like _“IT’S NOT EVEN SUMMER YET, BELLAMY!”_ and they’d get into a yelling match which would eventually result in sex on the kitchen counter,the fast and firey kind because they were both too tired for anything else right now. 

So when she heads home tonight, she does it mentally preparing herself for the fact that he’ll probably come home feeling like shit but at least now that she’ll be there before him, she could make him eat, check his cuts and talk to him.

God she missed talking to him. 

Except when she opens the door and rushes in, ready to hop in for a quick shower before she gets to do everything she had planned, she finds him there.

He doesn’t hear her, he can’t, because he’s standing by the sink with his back to her, half naked. The water’s running and he’s grunting, fidgeting with something in his hands and cursing.

“Bellamy?” at that she hears him let out a quiet “Fuck” and she starts walking to him “What’s going on? I thought you wouldn’t be home for another hour?”

“Shit! Just give me a second, I’m really dirty.” he yells back and she drops her jacket on their ragged couch. 

Something was wrong. He wasn’t turning back which only meant one thing.

He was hiding something.

“Bellamy, what the hell is-” he almost jumps when he feels her hand on his elbow pulling him around but she’s clearly stronger than him now and she tightens her grip around him. “What the hell happened?” 

He’s finally facing her, his chest half covered in blood, his left hand holding a dirty rag to something on his right side. He’s slumped over and out of breath and when she looks at his face, he seems pale.

“Hey, Clarke.”

 _“HEY, CLARKE!”_ she grabs his hand and roughly removes it away only to find a pretty deep cut on his side which starts bleeding the minute she removes the pressure on it. 

She puts his hand and the dirty rag back to it and keeps her own hand there too. It quickly covers in blood.

_“HEY CLARKE!!! IS THAT ALL YOU GOT TO SAY TO ME RIGHT NOW!”_ she snaps at him and he gives her a sheepish look.

“That and...I also just got stabbed.”

“BELLAMY!”

“I’m sorry, okay! Don’t freak out it’s not such a big deal!” she pulls the rag away again and when it starts bleeding profusely she cocks her eyebrow at him before applying pressure again. 

“Fine, it might be a little bit of a deal but I was handling it before you came in here and freaked out.”

“I’m just dying to know how you were handling it considering you’re bleeding all over!” he shrugs and rubs his neck with his free hand. “Seriously, let’s hear your grand plan, you absolute idiot.” she says as she carefully moves her body under his good arm and starts dragging him to the cot.

“I was going to stitch it myself.”

“With your amazing sewing abilities, I am sure!”

“Hey! My mother was a seamstress, I know how to sew.”

“Clothes and skin are not the same thing. Need I remind you last time you tried to bandage yourself up, you got a fucking infection and your pinkie-”

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU GOING TO REMIND ME ABOUT THE PINKIE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, CLARKE!”

“Yes, _I AM!_ ” she bites back as she pushes him down on the cot and pulls out the medical chest they kept under the bed-once again courtesy of him. 

She’d wake up more often than not in the middle of the night to something wet and find out he’s bleeding from somewhere without even realizing, so she’d need to get on fixing it fast and quiet while he was still mostly asleep. 

She’d never need more than a band aid, maybe some gauze, but she’d be relieved to know she could patch him up in the span of a minute.

“Because you are an idiot!”

He groans so loudly she gives him a look and he juts his bottom lip like a five year old.

“How did this happen?” she asks as she dozes a clean bandage with some antiseptic and presses it to his side.

He mumbles something inaudible and she actually digs her finger in the cut.

“OUCH! THAT HURT!”

“I have to clean it, there’s something in here.” she explains and stops when he doesn’t give her an explanation.

“Seriously?” he huffs annoyed and stares at the ceiling.

“Yes, seriously. I need to know what you did so I can treat the wound accordingly.”

“It’s just a cut, it’s not like my guts are spilling all over the floor.”

“If you’d like I can arrange that.”

“You’re killing me.”

“I’m not the one who came home bleeding all over, trying to sanitize a gash with water and get it infected by using an old dirty rag,Bellamy!”

“Fine! FINE! I tripped and fell over the place where we chop the woods. Someone forgot to remove axe away.”

“That someone being the idiot I’m currently bandaging?”

“Maybe-” she sighs and keeps on carefully cleaning the gash. He must’ve fallen at a weird angle with his luck and all.

“Did you really trip or were you too tired, you were walking with your eyes closed?”

“Jesus, you can read minds.” she smirks to herself as she clears another layer of dirt from the cut. 

“I thought you knew better than to take it out! It got dirty and you lost a lot of blood”

“Well what did you want me to do, walk around camp with an axe in my stomach?”

“Yes. Plus, it would fit you and all your Caesar impersonations.”

“He was stabbed _with a knife!”_

She touches his forehead.

“WHAT?” he asks annoyed.

“I’m just checking for fever since you always insist on correcting me that it was _multiple knives.”_

He groans again and this time she reaches to squeeze his hand in support. He was an idiot nerd, but he was her idiot nerd. 

“But for real” she cups his cheek this time “You are feverish.”

“I’m not! Your hands are too cold.”

“They’re not, Bellamy” she pushes him down on the pillow and moves his hand over the gash “Keep pressure while I prepare the needle.” 

“Are you gonna use the big one?” he spares a glance at her and moves his head just barely to find her waving the big needle in his face with a smirk “Ugh! If only you hadn’t come home early.” he sighs and avoids her look. He knows this will hurt, they don’t have any pain killers to spare so he’ll just have to cut it off and get his shit together “Wait, why did you come home early? OUCH, watch it!”

“I would, if you stopped moving!” she pushes him down again and he sighs. 

His muscles flex under her fingers. The skin is tender and the place is red and swollen all around. She can’t comprehend how it could’ve gotten so bad this fast unless he hurt himself in the morning and let it fester all day in the fucking heat. He must’ve tied an old rag and tried to keep going until he came up with some stupid apology for the kids and rushed home hoping she won’t be there to catch him.

Except she did.

And now the stitches might not hold. Because he was a reckless ass.

“Princess?” he breaks her thoughts and gives her a concerned look.

“I was going to take a bath, get us dinner and make sure you ate it for once. You could’ve even gotten lucky if I was in the mood.”

He sighs dramatically.

“Dammit, that stupid axe!”

“Were you really planning on hiding this from me?” he shrugs and closes his eyes, a sign he is getting serious.

“You have enough on your plate.I could’ve handled this. ”then he looks at her and smiles “But this is better.”

“How is it better?”

“Well I know you find me sexy when I’m all bruised and battered so I still might get lucky tonight.”

“You wish, grandpa. It would be a miracle if you could make it to the table with the amount of blood loss that you have.” she finishes the last stitch and grabs the bandage”Sit up, smart ass” he does and she starts wrapping it carefully. 

As she does he stares at her lovingly-despite being mad as fuck, she was still so gentle and soft. Her fingers brushed over his hurt side with such care and when he felt himself swaying, she grabbed his shoulder and steadied him. 

“Just a second, I’m almost done.”

“I’m fine.”

“Will I ever live to see a day when you’ll say this without bleeding all over me?”

“No” she swaps his chest playfully and ties the bandage up before helping him lay back down. She gets up and tosses a blanket over before gathering her supplies and shoving them in her chest, then closing it and kicking it under the cot. 

“Get rest” she says and he reaches to grab her wrist.

“No! Please stay, come here!” he is desperately pulling her down and she wonders where he gets the strength from right now.

“Bellamy! I need to get us food.”

“No!” he gives her the sweetest wide full of tears eyes. 

He’s in pain, she knows this and he is in the soft cuddly mood and god she wishes she could resist him because he really doesn’t deserve this right now, not after the shit he pulled today but finally with a roll of her eyes, she gives in,takes off her jacket and her boots and cuddles on his good side. 

He breathes her in, pulls her close and thinks how damn lucky he is to have her. Yes, if he could, he would’ve hid it from her. He doesn’t want to pile another worry on her back, he doesn’t want her fussing over him, checking his stitches, following him around camp and yelling at him to take it easy but that wasn’t the world they lived in. 

And as much as he hates to admit it, as much as the guilt is swallowing him whole for even feeling that, it was nice to have someone’s soft hands touching his body, taking care of it and calling him an idiot, even though he didn’t deserve it.

“You smell like a pig.” she comments and he laughs at that so sincerely he’s sure he must’ve pulled at least one of the stitches she just so perfectly fixed on him. 

Even now, when she’s so worried, she knows he’s letting the dark self-hatred thoughts consume him and she lightens the mood with the most stupidest of comments. 

“Oh, princess” he rubs her neck and her hair tickles his nose “I love you too.”


End file.
